The Fall (Book 5): Exodus in Black (8 page)

“I really wish Kincaid and the others would have come with us,” Emily said as she looked down the road they traveled.

Lying next to her on the roof of the RV, Kell grunted. “No one found Josh, Jess, and a bunch of other people. Can’t blame the guy for wanting to find his friends.”

That part didn’t bother her, nor the idea that some people may have just decided to move on to greener pastures. Splitting the fuel and other supplies didn’t do any harm since they’d have done so anyway.

She shifted on her belly, trying to find a more comfortable position for the rifle loosely cradled in her arms. “No, I just mean we’re running shorter than I’d like. Not as many adults to keep watch. Especially since I’m pretty sure someone is following us.”

“What?” Kell said, raising his head from his own rifle. “Where?”

She pointed back the way they’d come. “You’d have to look through your scope to see it, and even then it’s hard to catch. Looks like a thin dust cloud, like someone cutting through fields to catch up.”

That certainly wouldn’t be a difficult task. The RV was at the front of the caravan, so it set the pace. The county roads and state highways no longer existed in an era of regular maintenance, and any blind curve could hold a swarm or even human enemies. Until they hit the highway, it was a slow roll.

“I’m going to let Hal know,” Emily said. “You okay to keep an eye out for a few?”

“Sure.”

When she shimmied down the ladder leading inside the RV, everyone was looking at her.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asked.

The interior was heavily modified, mostly to give sleeping space to as many people as possible. He sat in what had once been a tiny dining nook, with the table folded down into a seat. Emily hadn’t yet grown used to seeing him out of what she subconsciously thought of as his uniform, but the loose basketball shorts and tank top made checking and cleaning his wounds simpler.

She leaned back against the ladder. “I’m not totally certain, but I think someone is following us. They’re a way back. I was thinking double watch shifts just in case.”

Emily very carefully didn’t phrase it as an order. Hal and his people spent most of their time living away from everyone else, and she didn’t know them well. One thing most survivors had in common was an independent, willful streak that didn’t abide people telling them what to do.

“Good idea,” Hal shouted over his shoulder from the driver’s seat. “How much leeway?”

Emily gave the question some thought. From a purely anthropological point of view, even asking it was a reminder how much things had changed. The rapid shift in human interaction and ritual that came with the end of the world made things as simple as keeping a wary eye on a stranger a decision about life and death. Among most survivor groups, an unspoken etiquette had formed around approaching strange groups of people. It wasn’t as simple as raising your hands and showing you were unarmed, either. If the person approaching was willing to risk their life, it was usually assumed they knew or strongly suspected the group was fair-minded. Fair-minded groups tended to respond in kind.

If the person kept their weapon handy, things often got…complicated. Then loud. Then messy. Then simple, and often sad.

“If whoever it is comes within sight of us, shoot if they don’t put down their weapon. Otherwise I say we play it by ear. We have kids with us, though, so we might want to pull everyone we don’t need into the RV tonight just to be safe.”

“Alright,” Hal said. “Let me fire up the CB and spread the word.”

That taken care of, she hurried back up the ladder. Kell was becoming a decent marksman, but for his many other wonderful qualities, she doubted shooting on top of a moving vehicle was one he’d kept hidden away.

“Everything okay?” he asked when Emily slid back into her spot next to him.

She took up the gun. “Yeah. Extra bodies on watch. The usual precautions.”

He was still looking through the scope. “I don’t know if we’ll need it. Whoever that is, they’re coming in fast.”

Emily reflexively looked up, her brain glitching out and not registering the rifle as a better way to see at a distance. Not that she needed it, now; the plume of dust was more visible and closer.

“Damn, they
are
hauling ass,” she agreed. “Small, though. Probably just a single vehicle.”

Kell laughed mirthlessly. “Won’t matter if it’s one of those custom jobs the mercenaries drove. A mounted gun will cut us to ribbons.”

They watched for a quarter hour as the unseen follower grew nearer, dust rising in scattered clouds as they moved from road to field and back again in an almost straight line.

“Hmm,” Emily muttered. “I think that’s a motorcycle. They’d have to cut through wooded areas to get this close this fast.”

“You sound happy about that,” Kell said.

“Well, yeah,” she replied. “Unless there are two people on it, not much chance of being shot at by whoever it is. That’s always a plus.”

There was a long gap where no dust rose up to show them where the approaching vehicle was. They had moved onto a long stretch of highway laid out arrow-straight across the plains, and the gap was broken not by another drifting plume, but by the vehicle itself.

The tiny surge of satisfaction Emily felt at correctly guessing it was a motorcycle was overshadowed by its rapid approach. The tail vehicle was the armored truck Kell escaped the compound in, with its own rifleman perched in the bed. An easy target.

She sighted through the scope and gasped immediately. There was no passenger, only the rider. He was ragged and bloody, bruises covering every inch of exposed skin. Emily pounded the signal to stop on the roof and immediately felt the RV begin to slow.

“I can’t believe it,” Kell said, looking through his own scope.

As Emily scrambled to climb down again, this time followed by Kell, Mason sat up with a strained grimace. “What is it? Are we about to be attacked?”

She grinned manically at him. “It’s Lee. He’s alive!”

Happy as everyone was to see Lee had survived, they didn’t have time for an emotional reunion out on the pavement. Kell and two other men hoisted the motorcycle—one of the modified dirt bikes short-range scouts used—into the back of the truck as Emily led Lee into the RV.

“I’ll keep watch,” Kell said. “You stay with him.” Her expression must have been dubious, because he rolled his eyes and added, “I’ll ask Andrea to go with me. She’s a great shot.”

Emily and Judith hustled Lee to the room at the back of the RV that doubled as a bedroom and multipurpose medical suite when needed.

“Stay,” Lee said when Emily began to leave to give him some privacy.

Judith, who was expertly stripping Lee’s bloodstained clothing, nodded. “Yes, stay. I might need your help depending on how injured he is.”

He stayed quiet for a minute as Judith listened to his heart and breathing, then groaned as she began gently pushing on the bruises covering his torso. His chest looked like a map of the world, and the bruises were oceans.

“Jesus, Lee,” Emily said, certain there were some broken ribs in there. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Is it okay if I talk?” he asked Judith, with a deference Emily had never heard from the much younger man.

“Sure.”

He looked back at Emily and said, “What’s that face for?”

“Nothing,” she said with mild sarcasm. “Suppose I’m just used to seeing you being a hardass on the training ground.”

Lee’s brows scrunched up. “She’s medical, though. I mean, when I was in the Marines, my corpsman was the guy who dragged you to safety and kept you alive. Habit, I guess.”

Judith’s mouth quirked at the corners. “That’s a good attitude to have, son. Keep in mind I’m the one with all the good drugs.”

He smiled, an winced as doing so stretched the bruised skin on his face. “Yes, ma’am. As for what happened, well, did you guys see the escape tunnel?”

Emily nodded. “It was empty.”

“By the time you guys rode in, sure,” Lee said. “It wasn’t empty at first. People were hiding in there. I got away on foot during the attack, then came back at night to start ferrying people away one at a time. Too many at once would have risked us being seen.”

This piqued her interest. “Who was in the tunnel? We’re missing some people.”

Lee’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Josh, Jess, some others they were close with. Said they might head west.”

Ah, if only he’d shown up in time to tell Kincaid the news. Then again, his injuries made it clear that showing up at all was an accomplishment. “Let me guess…you got caught.”

“Yeah. I was on my second to last trip back when they spotted me. Didn’t get much sleep, got sloppy. So I told the others to book it and caused a distraction. They caught me, started asking me nicely where Kell and the others were.” He gestured weakly to his bruised body.

“Did you tell them anything?” Emily asked, no accusation in her voice. She knew Lee wouldn’t take offense, either. One thing about torture, at least thorough torture, was that everyone eventually talked. It wasn’t a statement on bravery or integrity, but pure psychological and physical limits.

Lee shook his head. “No, but they only had me for a few hours. I heard one of them mention a truck full of guys who were supposed to check out the bunker. Did they make it there?”

Emily gave him a grim, cold smile. “No. At least, not alive. They go caught up in a swarm on the way. How did you get away?”

He waggled his right hand, which was badly discolored around the base of the thumb. “They cuffed me to that pipe running along the wall of the basement. I broke this to slip the cuff, then snuck up on the guard. I was quiet about it, but it was pretty damn close. It was the middle of the night, most everyone was asleep, so I just ran for it. Found a supply cache, fell asleep for a long time, and when I came out of it I decided I’d try to recover before heading to the bunker.”

By the time he’d made it to the bunker, they were gone. Then he’d checked out the compound from a safe distance and saw the destruction there, and decided the risk following the emergency route long planned in case of this situation.

“So where are we going?” Lee asked after a few quiet seconds. “Back to Haven?”

She very much wanted to share the news about the cure, but they were keeping it to a small group for now. The last thing anyone wanted was excitement to spread through the group—and for rumor to explode when they got to Haven—only to find out the results were not repeatable. There was no question Lee would know, since his entire reason for finding and staying with Kell was to protect him while a cure was researched. This just wasn’t the time.

“Yeah, looks like it,” she said. “The hope is that the mercenaries drew off enough zombies to make the trip back uneventful. At least the next hundred miles or so might be easier, if nothing else.”

Lee smiled, tired but genuine. “I honestly can’t believe you said that out loud. It’s gonna be a shit show, now.”

The advantage to traveling by vehicle was that swarms of zombies usually didn’t pose a threat. Sure, if they stood in a motionless blob they could impede progress, but their vehicles had armor over windows and enough mass to plow through small to medium herds. Helping this along was the natural instinct for zombies to move out of the way, just like people would do. They might be fearless and uncaring about personal danger when faced with imminent cannibalism, but rarely did they just patiently wait to be run over.

The convoy made it halfway to Haven before running into a significant problem. Kell, sitting in the passenger seat of the RV next to Hal, leaned forward and put a hand on his chin.

“That couldn’t be more obviously a trap, could it? I’m not crazy here?”

Hal sighed and tugged on his beard absently. “No, you’re right. It’s definitely a trap.”

The road ahead was littered with debris. Time and weather—possibly a tornado, judging by the number of felled trees—had given the faceless enemy a lot of material to work with. While there were no full-size trees laying in the road, the entire surface for dozens of yards was littered with branches of varying thickness. The largest of these were almost the size of Kell’s thigh.

“Mason,” Kell said over his shoulder. “Take a look at this.”

The RV rocked as Mason hobbled forward, injured leg held off the floor. He peered through the windshield. “Oh, yeah. That’s New Breed work. No doubt.”

Kell raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure? Because I don’t want to go out there and get shot while clearing the way.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen it before. Smart zombies will drag what they can across the road. Humans will take the easiest route and just cut down one or two big trees.” He chewed his lip. “Though now that you mention it, there’s really no reason a human enemy couldn’t have stumbled on this and decided to hide out there. It would make a good ambush point.”

Kell glared at him. “You’re not being super helpful, here.”

“I’m on the injured reserve, man. I’m not going out there,” Mason said with a grin. “I don’t have to be accurate.”

The joke went flat, partly because the small number of able-bodied adults in the group made clearing the road risky no matter what, and also because Mason was shit at telling jokes. Then Kell had an idea. He turned fully in his seat to face Mason.

“Could you shoot on your belly if I got you to the roof?”

Mason blinked. “Uh, yeah. I don’t see why not. I’m not exactly made of feathers, though, and I only have one good leg.”

Kell waved a dismissive hand. “Let me worry about that. And let me see if Lee and Andrea can do the same…”

It took longer than anyone wanted to get the three of them situated on the roof, but Kell felt immensely better for the effort. Knowing he had covering fire if needed meant unpleasant surprises at least had a response waiting.

When Kell stepped out of the RV, he wasted no time. Rather than try to clear everything, he darted forward with a baton in his left hand while flipping logs out of his way with the right. He flicked his eyes up every few seconds to check for zombies.

It was easier than it looked at first glance. There was no need to pick up and carry the debris, only move it out of the middle of the road. The lane needed to be wide enough to let the vehicles through. They made good time; half the way was cleared when the first New Breed rushed from the woods on either side of the road.

As at the bunker, he heard them before seeing them. An echo of the sudden and irrational panic from that fight rippled through him, but it was a faint thing. The New Breed moved at top speed in half a second, their gray, scaly flesh blurring as they converged on the handful of workers.

Kell stood and brought the end of the log he was holding with him. He flipped it away from his body and punted it forward with a steel-toed kick. The zombie clearly didn’t expect this tactic, because it didn’t even try to dodge as the length of heavy wood took it out at the knees. Kell brought the baton down on its head.

The skull cracked, but so did the baton.

“Oh, come on!”

Gunshots rang out, nearly in unison, and three of the New Breed fell. Seeing those bodies drop was when Kell took in for the first time that there weren’t very many of them to begin with. This wasn’t the typical swarm behavior New Breed operated in. Usually there was a large number of lesser zombies harried into attacking by their more aggressive—and more evolved—brethren.

“Hmm,” Kell hummed to himself, drawing out the sound. That was interesting. He waved a hand to get the attention of the shooters. “Hey! Leave one of them with an intact head, if you can. I want to study it.”

There was muffled conversation above and behind him. Unless he was mistaken, Andrea was expressing irritation while Lee and Mason tried to out-macho each other about who could make the necessary shots.

Kell caught the gaze of another zombie and kept his arms down, trying to project an aura of being easy prey. The zombie didn’t have the right mental wiring to express skepticism, but it
had
just witnessed him bashing in the skull of an enemy, so the act wasn’t an easy sell.

Still, the thing was a slave it its urges, and it attacked. Kell didn’t worry about killing it, only keeping it busy. His large hands fit around the zombie’s wrists easily, and he clamped down with all the grip he had. The head darted forward and snapped, and the zombie showed its cleverness by trying to unbalance Kell much as he tried to unbalance it.

“Any time,” Kell shouted, too concerned with keeping his balance to partake in his customary kneecapping of the zombie.

“Hold him still,” Mason yelled from the bus.

Kell wondered what they thought he was trying to do, exactly, if not hold the damn thing still, but instead he doubled down and drove his weight into the wrists of the dead man. The zombie buckled, legs spreading out to brace itself against his push.

Twin shots tore through the air and slapped into bone. A living person would have collapsed instantly, but the zombie didn’t react to pain. Instead there was a slow sort of telescoping motion as the shattered bones shifted apart, no longer able to hold the weight, then a fast slide to the pavement.

Kell let go and jumped back, confident he could fend off a crawling zombie. A few breaths later, two more bullets slapped into the dead man, this time at the elbows.

“Show-offs,” Kell mumbled.

“Look out!” one of the shooters yelled, just in time for Kell to see the New Breed who ran at him in a beeline from the trees on the side of the road.

He danced back as the hurtling body launched into him. His arm came up to instinctively protect his face, a reaction that saved him from another, much worse scar. The zombie snapped its jaws shut on Kell’s sleeve, which was unfortunately lacking in armor. The thick hide of the jacket didn’t tear, but the pain was still incredible as Kell’s skin was crushed through it.

“Aahhhhh! You fucker!” Kell shrieked, punching the zombie in the face with his other hand. “Get off!”

The pain wasn’t debilitating so much as intolerable. It was the sort of pinching sensation that made you feel like someone twisted the frequency knob of sensation in your body up as far as it would go. It was the tiny pinch a playful girlfriend might use on the back of your arm, but multiplied a thousand times.

The zombie raked at him with its hands, but he was having exactly none of that bullshit. Kell caught one hand and ducked away from the other, and he squeezed the captive fingers until they popped like a stack of kindling. A vicious twist at the end for good measure, and suddenly Kell and the zombie were on more even ground.

Not seeing a better way out of the fight and knowing the shooters wouldn’t risk firing at him with the zombie close enough to have its teeth in him, Kell swallowed hard and jammed his thumb into the thing’s eye socket.

His belly did flips worthy of an Olympic gymnastics routine as he tried hard not to think about what he was doing. The zombie actually helped in its own way by refusing to release its lock-jawed grasp on his arm. Kell used the leverage to push his thumb in farther. He ignored the flailing good hand scrabbling at his jacket, only using his elbow to block it when the zombie tried to claw at his face.

Thoroughly entrenched, he curled his hand into a fist and tried to yank the zombie’s head away. It didn’t work. Breaking into the brain cavity wouldn’t work with just his gloves. He needed another weapon from his belt, having dropped the broken baton.

In a flash of brilliance, Kell ripped his hand free and snatched the zombie’s good arm, forcing it into the hand whose arm was trapped in the zombie’s jaws. He held it as firmly as possible with someone trying to gnaw through his muscles and tendons.

He and the zombie struggled drunkenly together, each trying to maintain balance and gain some measure of advantage over the other. Kell let the thing push him back a few feet as he swept a hand down to his belt.

There, he found a notched handle.

“Got you now,” Kell said as he whipped the screwdriver up and jammed it into the zombie’s eye socket. The thin tip ricocheted off bone, not quite gaining purchase. It was a longer tool, the heavy variety used for industrial work.

He eased it back, angled it up, and shoved as hard as he could. The zombie shuddered as bone cracked, but didn’t fall. The screwdriver remained wedge in place, so Kell took a risk and let go for a second, then whacked the bottom of the handle with the palm of his hand in a bad imitation of the palm-thrust Mason had drilled into him on the training ground.

The zombie went out like a light, its jaws relaxing as it crumpled to the ground. Kell glanced around to see the others all working, some hauling zombie bodies out of the way while others continued moving logs.

He bent at the waist with hands on knees and took a few deep breaths.

From behind him came Emily’s voice.

“What are you planning to do with that?” she asked as she stepped into his field of view. She was pointing at the still-moving but deeply broken carcass of the zombie he’d tried so hard not to kill.

“I want to study it,” Kell said. “This herd was all New Breed, no protective layer of regular zombies. There might be something different about these guys.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically, “but doesn’t it seem more likely they just ate all the other zombies and this was all that was left? I mean, New Breed do that, don’t they? This is a pretty remote location. Besides, where are you going to put it? We don’t have a lot of room.”

“Well, you see…” he began confidently, then trailed off quickly. “Um. Actually, I think you’re right. Shit.”

Laughter danced in her eyes, but her words were kind. “You’re such a scientist sometimes. You see something out of place and the first place that big old brain of yours goes is to try to figure out why. It’s adorable. But if you think I’m sleeping with that thing anywhere near me, you’re
super
wrong.”

He yanked the screwdriver free and walked over to the struggling body, ending its misery. He’d been caught up in the moment, stressed by recent events, and looking for anything to keep his interest for longer than a pit stop. It was a trap he’d fallen into several times at college.

As soon as he had a lab, that dangerous lack of focus would no longer be a problem.